Why do I do this? Every stinkin’ time I swear that I won’t do it again, and every single time I fall back into the trap. Honestly, it must be an addiction. Maybe I need an intervention. What is this stupid mistake I keep making, you ask?I suffer for fashion. I can’t help it. Maybe I’m a victim of those subliminal media campaigns against women that the conspiracy theorists and feminists always decry. Maybe I’m just a glutton for punishment. Maybe I subconsciously have some weird addiction to pain. (Ok, that’s a stretch. I hate paper cuts. Much less anything that would cause me really serious physical pain.)Whatever it is, I’m miserable today. And I’ve got no one to blame but myself. And Anthropologie. See, it’s their fault for advertising the skirt I bought put together as a cute little work outfit with gray tights and booties. It was something I would NEVER have put together on my own, but I had to do it. The new brown suede boots I found over Thanksgiving were just clamoring to get out of the box, you know. My feet are killing me. My feet were killing me before I left the house. But I was too stubborn to give up and to lazy to change. (After all, it’s easier to grin and bear it than try an on-the-spot change on my way out the door, right?) I spent most of my commute rationalizing that I’d be OK now that I have this desk job. I mean, most of my day is spent sitting, right?Not today. Of course not. Two new guys starting today (one a complete surprise) and a major graphic design project mean that I’m spending my time running around the office. Yes, running. The deadlines are that tight. At this rate I’ll be lucky not to end up with a stress fracture by noon. And why? Because I was so danged determined to be just a bit fashionable. Wonder if I could claim Worker’s Comp on that one? Somehow I doubt it.For a person who likes to think that appearances don’t matter all that much, I’m embarrassed that I fell into the trap. I’d rather think that my actions and performance are more important. But I’m also enough of a girl to drool over InStyle every month too. But really – women should unite and protest the platform shoe epidemic before someone loses a limb.Why is this? Why are otherwise smart, independent women so willing to suffer for fashion’s sake? Why am I cringing at my throbbing feet just so I can feel stylish? Maybe it’s a midlife thing. I’ve been feeling old, I want to look reasonably young, so I’m gonna torture my poor feet? It sounds even more stupid as I’m rereading this. Seriously. Whatever. I’m resigned to a day of sore feet. But is that going to make me think twice next time? Probably not. But hey – it will help the budget. I mean, with my dogs barking like this there’s no WAY I’m going out to run the errands I’d planned for lunch. Uh uh. Not. At. All.